Sunday, November 09, 2008

Quick update: My folks are apparently in Mexico and are fine. Uh...okay.

Now, then: What the hell is WRONG with you people? Are you all mad as a sack of badgers? Where the hell do you get off? Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, you guys?

I mean, really. Do not (I repeat, do not) start a fistfight with your relative in your elderly and ill other relative's hospital room. If you do, I will be forced to call the police. And the po-pos, having dealt with your lousy self already, will not be happy that they have to come break that shit up.

Again.

Also, do not piss and moan and complain until I move heaven and earth to find an interpreter that speaks the same language as your patient from Furthest Backobeyondistan, then fail to show up at the hospital, or even return your pages, after I find the one person in the very large metropolitan area that speaks East Wanganese. The East Wanganese interpreter will be very disappointed, and the family members will be disappointed, and there will be unhappy people wandering around, wanting to start fights in some language other than English.

Luckily, since I know exactly no East Wanganese, the torrent of abuse that was levelled at me because of your idiocy, Doctor, rolled off my back like so much milk off a cornflake.

And finally, and I can't believe I am having to say this yet a-bloody-gain, the hospital is not the place to host Tupperware parties, drinking bouts, drug deals, furniture sales, porn movie festivals, panhandling competitions, the 2008 TV-Stealing Olympics For The Poorly Dentitioned, or any other harebrained, jackassed idea you might have.

Whatever you think is a good idea, I can tell you right now is totally inappropriate, will probably have the aforementioned police showing up at your room, and might get your rhino-assed self kicked straight back to County General.

I am now going to finish this Scotch and go back to bed. Your behavior had better have improved by Wednesday, or else I'll give you something to whine about.